


Kiss For A Gift

by what_a_dork_fish



Series: Cheriks [28]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Fluff, M/M, but still, idk what else to tag, well only one of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 04:51:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21314482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_a_dork_fish/pseuds/what_a_dork_fish
Summary: "Erik! Look! I have legs now!"A little ditty about love.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: Cheriks [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/706398
Comments: 14
Kudos: 76





	Kiss For A Gift

**Author's Note:**

> This is super Disney-love-story thick and sappy but it's fine.
> 
> Also it is part of the Cherik fanzine "Bookends" I was part of! If you would like to purchase a copy, their tumblr and twitter are both @cherikzine! I'll post a link on my own tumblr too!

No one in the village liked Erik, and he was fine with that.

He never gave anyone doubt that he didn’t belong, he did his work quietly and well, he helped the elderly, he gently rebuffed romantic young women who wished to annoy their parents by being his sweetheart, and he never used his Uncanny abilities in public.

Well, not on land, at least. The other fishermen liked having him on their boats, because they could be sure that everything would go right on the water if Erik came along. While he was Uncanny, and therefore dangerous, at least he was good luck, too.

Erik trotted silently through the village, carrying a small basket of pastries. He’d baked them himself, the way Mama used to; because that was the way his lover liked best.

Not that he and his lover had ever lain together; the logistics of that was too strange, and while Erik’s lover’s human half was very handsome, his fish half was merely beautiful, and not at all attractive.

Oh, yes; Erik’s lover was a merman.

Erik smiled a little, thinking of his merman. They had met years ago, when Erik had first come here and been so unhappy for being Uncanny and viewed with suspicion. He’d thought to drown himself, to just get it over with—and then he’d been saved, and taken back to shore, and the young merman who had rescued him had stayed long enough to scold Erik for trying to swim in the Deep Sea, before disappearing with a flip of his gorgeous blue tail.

And now they met, every other night, to talk or swim together, or simply lie on the sand still warm from the sun and hold each other. It was a good arrangement.

Erik climbed carefully over the rocks that sheltered the little cove where he and his merman met, and climbed carefully down. It was only when he was standing on the soft sand that he noticed that there was a human already there.

A human whose eyes glowed blue, like his lover’s.

The human stood, wobbling and clumsy, bracing against a rock, and smiled at Erik. “Erik! Look! I have legs now!”

Erik dropped his basket. “Charles?” he whispered, eyes widening.

Charles beamed at him, so proud and excited, despite the fact that his legs—his _legs_—were visibly trembling. “Yes! I went to Leviathan, and she gave me a potion and a spell! I had to come to the surface, because I don’t have gills anymore, but look! I can stay with you now!”

And then he collapsed, with a little yelp of surprise, and Erik ran over and fell to his knees beside Charles, wrapping one arm around Charles’ shoulders to hold him up. Charles smiled up at him, the same sweet smile that had calmed Erik’s worst tempers. “I’m still not used to walking,” Charles stated, confirming what Erik had dreaded. “I tried to practice, but it was hard.”

“Charles… why?” Erik asked, bewildered. “You love the ocean.”

“Yes, but I love you more.” Charles snuggled against Erik, completely unaware of how Erik’s breath caught. “The pod doesn’t want me; I’m too Uncanny. Mother said she will continue helping me bring you luck at sea, if you treat me right and I don’t go back.”

Erik tried to get his stunned brain to think, even as he wrapped his arms tightly around Charles and felt a small, singing joy at the words ‘_I love you more_’. “Your… your pod cast you out?”

“No, I left. They were planning to cast me out, but I left before the vote and went to Leviathan to ask for her help. She’s very nice, if you know how to approach her.” Charles ran his fingertips over Erik’s collarbone, making him shiver. “Do you want to hear the terms?”

“Yes,” Erik answered automatically, semi-distracted by the gentle fingers exploring his neck and jaw, alabaster against oak.

“I get two months. Two months, and then I’ll lose strength, and start to turn back. _However_, if you kiss me before the two months are up, I’ll stay human forever.” Charles smiled as Erik felt alarm flare in him. “We can wait. I want to learn how to be human.”

“Charles… the village—they won’t welcome you.”

“Neither did my pod.”

“They’ll think you’re a monster.”

“So did my own mother.”

“You won’t have anywhere to stay or anything to do—”

“I’ll stay with you, and I’ll keep your house, and in my free time I’ll make jewelry. You’re the one who told me the women of the village would love my jewelry.”

Erik gaped at Charles, who simply smiled back. Then Erik began to smile too, because he couldn’t be angry, and anyway, the thought of coming home from fishing to find his darling waiting was extremely attractive. “An answer for everything, I see,” he murmured.

“I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while,” Charles replied cheerfully. “You’re just too stubborn to see it. We can make it work. And you’ll kiss me before the two months are up. I know you will.”

-

It took many hours to get Charles used to walking, and while his legs were still a bit unsteady, he could at least lift them separately, though he had to focus very hard on it. He liked to wriggle his toes and exclaim over how strange the sand felt between them. Erik shook his head, but held Charles’ elbow and helped him get used to bracing firmly.

Then they sat on the sand and ate the pastries, Charles as usual swaying where he sat with a look of bliss on his face. Erik couldn’t help smiling at him.

After the pastries were gone, Erik helped Charles up the rocks, back on to dry dirt. Charles was still a little wobbly, but he was better now. And since it was still a few hours before dawn, no one saw Erik holding hands with a naked man as they crept silently through the village to Erik’s hut.

Charles looked around the hut with interest once they were inside. It was a little big for one person, but Erik didn’t care; the extra space was nice when he had nightmares about being locked in a coffin and slowly suffocating. Charles wandered the little stone hut, his bare feet making no sound on the flagstone floor, touching the walls and the windows and the fireplace and the tiny baking oven in the kitchen. Erik opened his wardrobe (made himself with planking salvaged from broken boats) and found some clothes that might fit Charles. When he turned around, Charles was standing in the middle of the single room, looking around. And then he looked at Erik and smiled.

“This is a beautiful place,” he said.

Erik shrugged, surprised to feel himself blushing. “It’s not as fancy as other houses,” he muttered. “Let me get some water so you can wash.”

Erik’s hut was just a little too far from the village center to be worth it to walk all the way to the common well; so he had his own pump, and he filled his single bucket five times to fill the wooden tub, lined with heavy canvas to prevent splinters, drawn up in front of the fire. The tub was his single most precious possession. If anyone were to take it from him, he would hunt them down and do whatever he had to to get it back.

Charles didn’t know how to bathe. Erik helped him step into the tub, then had to tell him how to clean himself. It was embarrassing, for both of them; Erik because he didn’t know how to teach anyone to bathe, Charles because he always hated admitting lack of knowledge. They muddled through, though, and Charles stepped out of the tub on his own, pink from scrubbing and smiling widely.

“I love being wet,” he sighed happily.

“You can’t walk around in public naked and wet, though,” Erik warned him, fetching a towel. “Here, dry off and we’ll see if these clothes fit you.”

They didn’t fit; they were too big. But Charles rolled up the sleeves and the trouser legs, and they laid down together on the bed, as they would have on the sand, and Erik fell deeply asleep, listening to Charles breathing, holding Charles firmly, feeling safe.

~

They both woke when someone pounded on the door. Charles sat bolt upright, and Erik struggled up on his elbow, rubbing his eyes.

“Hurry it up, Lehnsherr!” called an annoyed voice. “Or we’ll leave without you.”

“Damn,” Erik hissed, scrabbling out of bed and running to yank the door open. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed,” he told the scowling sailor standing outside, “And I’ll be ready.”

“Fine, fine, just _hurry_.”

Erik did hurry—he hurried so fast he almost forgot his coat, until Charles stopped him and pressed it into his hands. He grabbed Charles’ hand and squeezed it in thanks, then ran out the door.

“Who was that?” the sailor, Ari, asked with a frown as they hurried down the road to the docks.

“A friend,” Erik answered shortly.

That day’s fishing was particularly successful; not just the boat Erik worked on, but also the others. They all sailed up to the harbor city just a few miles along the coast, and sold their fish in the markets there. Erik didn’t stay for that; instead he went to a cobbler’s shop, and bought some boots that looked like they would fit Charles, and then he went and bought some seeds for vegetables that he did not have in his garden. Growing things would occupy Charles.

Then he returned to the fish stalls, just in time to go home. There was still quite a bit of good fish left; the village would have good dinners, tonight.

They sailed in the quiet evening, and Erik mapped each boat as they went, making sure no mischief had been done to any. For once, everything was good; Erik was quite pleased with this. The metal was firm, nothing rusty or different. He shaded his eyes against the setting sun and looked out at the sea. It was dark and choppy, but the storm clouds were far away. They had time. The storm would roll up in the night, and hopefully pass on to the mainland by morning.

The captain shared out the day’s profit, then everyone finished their duties and trooped on home. Erik had saved some salmon for himself and Charles; he carried them by the tail, since he didn’t have a bucket, and by the time he got home, the wind was wild and the clouds were coming.

He stepped into the cottage, and blinked.

His two chairs were set in front of the larger fireplace, a rope tied between them, and all his laundry draped over the rope, drying. The floor had been scrubbed, the rugs cleaned, the bed made. And Charles was making tea.

“I thought you would like a drink when you came home,” Charles said, smiling, as Erik blinked at him. “Is that dinner?”

“Oh… yes.” Erik carried the fish to the kitchen and took down his cutting board. Charles brought him a cup of tea; he drank it, and was pleasantly surprised that it was perfect. “Will you help me descale these? Don’t skin them.”

“Alright.” Charles stood beside Erik at the scarred but scrubbed counter and began descaling the fish quickly and expertly. Erik grinned and set to work on his own fish.

When the salmon were ready, Erik minced them, seasoned them, and made gefilte fish. This wasn’t really the right fish for it, but Erik wanted to make something special. He cut up some carrots and potatoes, and Charles watched, fascinated, as Erik finished preparing dinner. As Erik took the gefilte from the pan, Charles hurried to put away the laundry, now dry, and put the chairs back at the tiny table. Dinner was nice, not just because Erik got to share it with Charles, who swayed in his seat and ate with a look of great pleasure on his face, but also because Charles said, when he was halfway done eating, “Oh! I read the minds of the local gardeners, and I think I weeded the garden properly. Can we make the garden bigger? I want to help with food.”

Erik smiled. Who says being Uncanny is bad? “I got seeds for that purpose. I have to go out again tomorrow; would you like to go to the village market-day? I’ll give you money, and you can talk to people. Just don’t tell them you’re a merman; they’ll think you’re crazy.”

“I’m not a merman anymore, though. I am human.” Charles smiled brilliantly at Erik. “I would like that, though.”

Erik took a bath after dinner, and then, as he and Charles lay in bed, the shutters fastened tight against the roaring rain and the blankets snuggled around them, they talked about what they would do tomorrow. Erik began to drowse; Charles sang him songs from the Deep, and Erik fell asleep to siren-song, promising him a home and a family if he only went to the singer…

-

Charles didn’t sleep. Leviathan had warned him of that, that he would not sleep as humans did. Fish do not sleep; merpeople sleep sometimes, when they are starving and must conserve energy. But Charles was full of good food, and did not have to keep swimming to keep water moving through his gills; so he did not sleep.

How strange, to lie close beside someone and watch them sleep! Erik’s face was relaxed, his eyes moving fast beneath his lids as he dreamed. He was so handsome, angular and a kind of coppery-brown color so unlike the pale skin of Charles’ pod. His dark hair had streaks of white, and his eyebrows were whitening too, but the hair on the rest of his body was still dark. His hands and face were tanned and showed the signs of years of work at sea. Charles compared his own blue eyes (“Blue as the calm sea,” Erik had once told him) to the much more interesting mutable shade of Erik’s, grey and green and blue and fascinating.

Erik was beautiful, but Charles knew he would not believe it if Charles told him. Oh well. Charles admired his face, softened by sleep, and wondered giddily when Erik would kiss him. Charles had never kissed before. The sirens he used to play with when he was only fifty had complained of sailors trying to kiss them, if they survived the rocks and made it on to the siren’s beach. But Erik was no slobbering, half-crazed creep. Erik was kind and honorable and sweet and—and—

The sun began to creep over the horizon. Charles sighed heavily and waited patiently for Erik to wake up.

Erik woke as dawn light peeked through the gaps in the shutters, and scrunched his face up, eyes still closed, in an expression of deep annoyance. Charles smiled at how endearing the expression was.

“Good morning, Erik,” he murmured.

Erik sighed and relaxed, opening his eyes and smiling a little. Charles could feel the movement of gentle emotion, still sleep-fuzzy, through Erik’s mind. “G’morning,” he mumbled. “Is there time from breakfast?”

“Perhaps. What do you want to eat?”

“Mmph.” Erik rubbed his eyes as he thought. “Jam sandwiches are fine.”

“I’ll make you some. Take your time, my love.” Charles stroked Erik’s hair once, then slid out of bed and went to the corner Erik called his kitchen. The bread was in a box; the jam was in a cupboard. Charles took out plates and a spoon and a knife, and made sandwiches. He was quite proud that the bread he cut was even and not too thick, and he was sure Erik would like this amount of jam. He also cut up some cheese and smoked salmon, in case Erik had time for more than sandwiches.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” Erik objected as Charles ferried it all to the table. Erik was busy pulling on his heavy clothes; a good idea, since Charles could tell from the smell of the air that it was going to be chilly all day.

“You need food,” Charles replied serenely. “Eat.”

Erik tried to frown, but it lost to a fond smile, and then they sat at the table and ate together. Then Erik hugged Charles, pressed a small pile of copper coins into his hands, murmured, “Market starts soon, see you tonight,” and left.

Charles smiled after Erik, so full of the certainty that this was the right decision. He was going to stay human for Erik. He was going to be the best mate in the world for him, and Erik was going to kiss him, and they could be together until they died.

Charles stood, put the coins down on the table, and did a little whirling dance right there in the middle of the hut, clumsy on two legs and with no buoyancy holding him up. It got out some of his energy at least. He went out into the garden as the sun showed further golden rays, and weeded and checked each plant for problems. Mother had always said his obsession with plants was bad; well, Mother didn’t know that plants had their own quiet language, the language of sun and water and growth. These plants were different from the ones he had cultivated underwater and in isolated tidal pools; they liked the air, and too much water would kill them. Charles listened to them carefully, and when he heard a great many minds begin to gather in the village center, he hurried inside to scoop up his coins and go to market.

He realized halfway down the road that he’d forgotten his boots, but he didn’t care. His feet were tough enough.

The market was interesting. Stalls were set up, with wares and produce on display and people, mostly women, browsing thoughtfully. Charles allowed his mind to bask in the warm press of others, as he looked around alertly and listened to the talk.

“Excuse me,” said a creaky old voice, and Charles turned to see a very old woman indeed peering up at him with puzzlement. “You seem new here.”

“I am,” Charles replied with a smile. “I’m Charles. May I know your name, madame?”

The old woman smiled back, a little. “My name is Rebecca. Who is your family?”

“Oh—they live across the sea. I left them to come here. I’m staying with Lehnsherr.”

“Oh, yes. Ari said Lehnsherr had a guest. How long will you be staying?”

“I hope forever.”

Rebecca blinked. “Forever?”

“Yes. He is the only person I know outside my p—family.”

She nodded slowly, and suspicion curled through her thoughts. Charles wondered what he’d said, but didn’t poke into her mind; that would be rude. Instead he asked, “Can you tell me what grows best here? The plants are different where I used to live.”

Rebecca gave him a sideways look, then smiled again. “Come along and I’ll show you.”

Charles followed her obediently as she led him around the market, speaking with farmers and herbwives, learning what liked the soil best, and how to tend it, and how to harvest it. Charles introduced himself to each with a cheerful smile, and deliberately shut out the suspicions. He could not win the village in a day. He would have to prove his worth. He could do that.

He soon learned how lucky he was. With Rebecca to introduce him, he was at least given a chance. She was respected and honored, and so anyone she allowed in her train was respected too, to a degree. The farmers were surprised by his questions, as he showed a thorough grasp of how to tell when a plant was failing to thrive, but had no idea what a compost heap was. Another old woman took pity on him and told him that, if he helped her with her own garden tomorrow, she would show him more. He agreed readily, and thanked her with a smile.

Rebecca helped him bargain for eggs and milk, and some vegetables that did not grow in Erik’s garden. He thanked her; and then, just to be sure, he asked, “Do you think anyone would like to buy beads? I am a fair hand at making jewelry and Erik said I might find custom here.”

Rebecca smiled, wider than the ones she had given him that morning. Her suspicions were nearly nonexistent since he had proven he was truly here to work. “Little one, there are plenty of people who come to this market who would happily buy your beads,” she assured him. “Now go home, and take care of your garden. Next market-day, I will help you find a place to sell them.”

“Thank you, Rebecca.” Charles bowed deeply to her, and she laughed, before they parted ways, and Charles went happily home.

He washed the eggs as he’d been told, and put the container of milk in a deep bowl of icy ground water (the weather may know it was spring, but the deep earth was still quite cold). He usually ate eggs raw, but he knew that was not a human behavior, so he set them aside and wondered excitedly what Erik would show him to make with them.

Erik came home in the afternoon, looking grumpy. Charles greeted him with a smile, and said excitedly, “I bought eggs, and milk! Shall we eat them today?”

Erik blinked, then smiled slightly, and nodded. “Morah Rebecca said she introduced you to people. Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh, yes! I went and finished weeding the garden, and tomorrow I’m going to help Alanna with her garden, too,” Charles replied happily, taking Erik’s coat and hanging it on the back of a chair. “I’ll see if I can get any shells at the tidal pools, to make into jewelry. Maybe my pod will bring me some gold. Alex said he would, at least.”

Erik’s head snapped up, and he gaped at Charles. “Gold?” he asked in a strangled voice.

Charles nodded, puzzled. “The Selkies taught Hank to find wrecked ships, and he and the rest of the pod get all kinds of things from the ships. Alex said he would bring me gold, so we can afford materials for jewelry.”

Erik stared at him, still shocked. Charles frowned worriedly and stepped closer. “Erik? Is that wrong? Should I tell him no?”

“No—no, it’s fine.” Erik took Charles’ hand in his own and squeezed tightly. “I… I will have to take the gold to a bank, to have it exchanged. Although how I am to do that when it’s just unclaimed gold from the ocean, and I have no way to prove it’s real...”

“You can’t just say you got it from shipwrecks?” Charles asked, confused.

“No. I can’t. That’s suspicious. They’ll think I stole it.” Erik pressed his lips together tightly, his eyes darkening with old anger. “They always think I steal.”

Charles thought for a moment. Erik had often complained about having to ask his pale-skinned friends to talk to various merchants, because his lovely bronze skin was considered suspicious by white people. Charles looked at his hands. He was paler than anyone in this village, and therefore suspicious to them; would other pale people feel the same about him?

“What if _I_ took the gold?”

Erik blinked at him. “What?”

“What if I took the gold to the bank?” Charles repeated, looking up again. “You told me you have to ask your pale friends to talk to white people. I’m white. What if I go?”

Erik stared for a moment. Charles could hear his thoughts whirring lightning-fast. Suddenly Erik grinned. “They might be surprised, but they will be less likely to think you stole. Yes. That is a good plan, Charles.”

-

A month later, as dawn began to glow through the shutters, Erik woke.

The first thing he saw was Charles sitting at the new table they had bought with merpeople gold, focused intently on his work. Spools of wire, trays of beads, and gems salvaged from sunken ships were spread around him. He was making the wedding jewels for a wealthy customer in the city.

Erik lay in bed and watched through half-closed eyes. The bed was much nicer than his old one—bigger, softer, cleaner. They had bought it with money made from Charles’ jewelry sales. Not only had his beads and seashells been a success in the village, but his most expensive pieces went to the rich who didn’t care where their beautiful gems came from. His wages purchased furniture, clothes, and of course supplies; he paid the blacksmith, too, so that Erik could use the forge for fancy-work.

At synagogue, the other villagers sometimes asked Erik about Charles; where he had come from, who his family was, what his relationship with Erik was. On the ship, it was harder to slip out of those conversations. Eventually Erik was going to have to explain to everyone that they were lovers.

But not now, surely. Not with faint gleams of sunlight seeping through the shutters to touch Charles’ copper hair, his eyes bright as he focused, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, his hands fast but steady as they strung beads and created elaborate pendants. Not with the sun lying golden on his bare arms and torso (Charles hated sleeping in clothes).

“I can hear you thinking about me,” Charles said suddenly, startling Erik. Then Erik grinned.

“Then you can hear me thinking you should come back to bed,” he replied.

“Naughty, naughty,” Charles murmured, flicking him a sideways look. “We’re not even married.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, silly.”

Charles raised his head and smiled at Erik. “I know.”

Erik smiled back and lifted the blanket in obvious invitation. Charles set his work down and padded over to slip under the covers and snuggle up against Erik’s chest, sighing happily. Erik wrapped his arm around Charles waist—

—and kissed Charles’ forehead.

Charles inhaled sharply. Erik blinked, and then realized what he had done. The spell. The spell that would keep Charles human. He’d sealed it without thinking.

“I knew it,” Charles breathed, smiling up at Erik. “I _knew_ you would kiss me.”

Erik opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say. Charles’ face was so full of trust and love and joy, Erik couldn’t breathe for a moment. So instead he kissed Charles again, on the lips, gently. And he pushed all his emotions into a projection; his apology, weakened by joy at knowing Charles was truly his, at knowing Charles loved him, at knowing he’d never lose the only person he’d loved like this. Charles kissed back, enthusiastic but inexperienced, and let a wave of his own happiness wash over Erik’s mind and mingle with the projection.

They lay there for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, content in the knowledge that they were together, and nothing and no one could change that.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 11/06/19: I know this is in the zine and all but please give me comments I am in Bad Slump


End file.
